


Born on the Bayou

by pushkin666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Future Fic, Gen, I love John Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-10
Updated: 2010-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Futurefic. There were once many creatures living out in the bayou including the Plat-Eye. In the times after the Demon War an old storyteller tells about a man he once met, a hunter called John Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born on the Bayou

He shifted slightly in the chair seat and looked around in pleasure as the children sat before him, their faces alight with interest. Storytellers were always welcome in the compounds bringing news to the adults of what was happening in the outside world, telling stories to the children; stories of the time before the Demon War. Few storytellers were as old as he though, but then he had been many things before becoming a storyteller. His visits were a big event for the children, something interesting to break up their days of fear and training and he loved bringing a smile to their faces. He told many tales; tales of the times before, tales of love and happiness, funny stories to make them laugh and stories of the Hunters.

"Let me tell you a story about something that happened to me many years ago, before the world changed, when I was a young boy." He ruffled the hair of the little girl who sat closest to him, focussed his attention on her. He always found it helped to find one particular child in the group, to tell his story to that child alone. It made it more personal, made the story more real and it pulled in the rest of the audience. Not realising that they were reacting to how that one person saw the story, heard his words.

"I got lost out on the bayou one day. You're wondering what a bayou is, I suppose? Well, they don't exist anymore. The lands are too dry now, not enough water. A bayou was what we used to call a slow moving creek. Its waters were normally murky and you'd have trees overhanging it, cutting out the light. The air was always close and warm and you never knew just what was lurking in the waters or on the banks. Things and creatures that I knew nothing about."

"Now you need to know how I got to be there. My momma was born in the country in a place where the folk tales were just as important as the teachings of the bible. She was bright and pretty and wanted to make something of herself. She was clever enough to find a place for herself at college in New Orleans. New Orleans was a great city, vibrant and colourful."

He sighed. "It no longer exists, hasn't for a very long time. It's in the area we now call the Southlands. Whilst she was at college she met my pa and married him. Not much later I was born, but then my pa stupidly got himself killed in a fight. She came back to her parents' house but it wasn't long before she was craving the brightness and colours of New Orleans again and she left me with them, telling me that she would send for me when she managed to get herself settled. Although I saw her again, she never did send for me, and she was finally lost when Katrina hit."

He stopped for a moment, his eyes sad as he tried to remember his mother. He could remember the sound of her laughter and the bright clothes she loved to wear, the look in her eyes and her smile when she saw him. He looked down at the children who sat at his feet again focussing on the little girl. She reminded him of his daughter, long gone nowm her body burnt to ashes and cast on the east wind. He thought sometimes he'd lived too long, all those he once loved long dead. But as long as his stories found a home he would carry on.

"Anyway my grandparents were good to me but they were old and hadn't raised a child in years. My momma was a gift to them in their later years, and they were deeply upset when she left their small house to go to New Orleans. This I found out later. They happily took me in though and gave me all the love they had left. To keep me company they bought me a dog, a little black and white mutt. I called him Rascal and I took him with me everywhere. My grandpa told me tales of the bayou, how I should beware of the creatures there, but I didn't believe his tales. I was from the city after all and the stories of my grandparents were just too fantastic for me to believe. But I got bored in the house, there was no television and they only owned a radio. They told me they didn't see the point for a television, something I couldn't understand. So to stop myself from being bored I went out into the woods around their house with Rascal at my heels."

"They knew they couldn't hold me in the house, wouldn't have tried but they told me to stay close and to keep to the paths at all time, not to stray away and my grandpa gave me a pocket knife. _Just in case_ he told me."

"They told me the stories of the creatures living out in the bayou but the one they warned me most of was the Plat-Eye." He smiled at the children and took a mouthful of water before continuing with his story. "Some of you may know what a Plat-Eye is. If you don't I'll tell you. Well a Plat-Eye is a spirit, a mischievous ghost. They roam the Earth changing shape and identity for their own purposes. They normally appear as an animal and they can change form in front of you. You never know what they might be but they're big - that's always a sign and they have eyes of hell. They're most often seen in the hours between twilight and dawn and my grandparents always warned me to be back at home before that time. They told me that the Plat-Eye would lead me into danger, lose me in the swamps and leave me to die. I laughed and didn't believe them. I was ten years old after all, and things like that didn't exist, not in my world. As time went on I stayed out longer and longer each day, exploring the area around the house, going further and further into the bayou, trying to learn it as best I could."

"One day I ventured further than I had before. The air was hot and I soon grew tired. Straying away from the path I looked for somewhere to rest, to sit with my dog and eat the sandwiches that my grandma packed for me. I pushed my way through the trees until I found a spot where they opened out, allowing the light in. It was still very warm though and I soon lay down resting my head on my coat, my dog by my side."

"I slept for a very long time. When I came awake the light was fading and I knew that I must get home before the light was completely gone or I would be lost in the dark. Telling Rascal to find the path I hurried after him as he darted off, trusting that he would know how to get back, as I had no idea. The light began to fade and the woods became quieter and quieter until all I could hear was the soft slow sound of the water filtering through the trees. The quiet was eerie and I tried not to let it scare me. We were lucky and we were soon back on the path. I knew it would take about 30 minutes to get back to my grandparents' house but as long as I kept to the path I figured I would be fine."

"It was then that I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see what it was but there was nothing there until I turned back. You know what was stood there?"

They shook their heads and he paused for a moment drawing out the suspense. "Well, standing in front of us was a large yellow haired dog with red eyes. It was huge and I didn't know what to do. Rascal shrank close to me. I don't know now which of us was protecting the other. I tried to skirt around it but I couldn't get past, it wouldn't let me by. So I turned and ran back along that path, my dog with me, but we just couldn't escape it. I remember how silent it was as it ran behind me. The air was heavy and dark around us as though everything in the bayou was watching the show. And then it began to try and herd me from the path, running along side me. Snarling and showing it's fangs, and I knew this weren't no earthly creature, knew it must be from hell and I remembered my grandparents' stories. My fault of course, for not doing as I was told and being home before dusk fell and I vowed if I got home I would never laugh at their stories again. The beast began to circle me. Each time I tried to get past it to safety it would be there again, fast as lighting in front of me, and those eyes ... those unholy eyes bright in the dark. I'd never seen anything like it and it scared me to death."

"I don't know how long it went on for but all of a sudden I looked up and realised I was no longer on the path, worst, I didn't know where I was. I stood in a clearing, the ground was boggy beneath my feet and the trees hung down, blocking the way back. I looked around for Rascal but he was gone." He paused and looked around at the rapt children.

"I didn't know what to do." he told them. "My dog was gone and I was alone with this ... thing. So I did the only thing I could. What do you reckon it was?" He looked at them expectantly. "Did I throw holy water at it? Did I try and exorcise it, pump it with rock salt?" They gasped and he smiled. "No. I didn't do any of those things. Life was different then you know. Most of us knew nothing about demons and supernatural beasts. We didn't know what monsters hid in the dark, we were more innocent then. I could have tried to run, of course, but I didn't. Nope, I took out my little pocket knife that my grandpa gave me and I stood my ground. I knew it wasn't gonna do much good but I thought I might get a couple of strikes in before it killed me."

He stopped and took another mouthful of water. Adults had joined the circle of children sitting around him, drawn in by the storytelling. "It's getting late." he said. "Perhaps we should leave this for another day?"

"No!"

"Heh." He smiled delighted at the reaction. "You really want to hear the rest of this old man's story?"

"Yes please," they said. The little girl sitting directly at his feet tugged on his trousers and he smiled down at her, ruffled her hair again. He carried on directing his story to her.

"Okay. So ... where was I?" He tugged his beard. "Oh yes. I was all alone, no dog, no weapon but a pocket knife and a hell beast in front of me. Not good odds, would you agree?" The children shook their heads, and a few of the adults did as well. "As it moved slowly towards me and I held the knife out in front of me I heard a quiet sound behind me and then a hand came down on my shoulder. Frightened the life out of me it did. I nearly wet my pants." The children laughed.

He smiled at them and continued. "He was so quiet, he said nothing just stepped between the beast and me, Rascal by the side of him. I watched as the beast stopped moving forwards and turned all its attention to him. But you know, it almost looked wary, like it didn't know what it was gonna do; almost scared. He said nothing, just stood there protecting me and then, very slowly, he raised his rifle and shot it. The noise was terrifying. It shimmered for a moment and then it disappeared. He pulled some fireworks from his pack, lit one and held it out in front of him, and as I watched the beast reappeared. He threw the firework at it. The firework exploded and it disappeared again. Holding another unlit one he grabbed my arm and pushed me away from the clearing."

"Five more times it reappeared, each time to disappear when a firework was thrown at it. The air was now scented with sulphur and gunpowder, his grip on my arm strong. We got back to the path and stopped, and he spoke for the first time.

"Once more," he said quietly. "It will appear once more. Here ..." he said, looking sternly into my eyes as he passed me a firework. "You must do this. When it reappears, light the firework and throw it straight at it. You make it disappear the last time." I clasped the firework tightly in my hand and stared up at him."

"What did he look like?" one of the children interrupted.

"Well," he closed his eyes trying to get a clear picture of the man in his mind. "He had dark hair and a beard and his clothes were worn and dirty. He looked tired but his smile ... his smile was kind."

"He was right as well. It did appear one last time as we walked down the path. It was much bigger this time though, and as it stood in front of us, it howled, long and mournful enough to set your teeth on edge. Its eerie eyes were fixed on me and it took a step forward. I shook, but I hung on hard to that firework as he lit it for me, and then ... then I threw it as hard as I could towards the beast." He smiled at the audience. "I hit it straight between the eyes. It gave an unearthly howl and then it disappeared."

"And the man?" asked one of the adults. "What happened then?"

"Well, he took my hand and walked me home to my grandparents' house. We talked on the way. He told me about the beast, told me it was a Plat-eye and that the reason it didn't like fireworks was because it feared sulphur and gunpowder. I had to throw the last one to banish it, as I was its chosen prey. He told me I would have died if Rascal hadn't found him, brought him to me."

He stopped for a moment remembering the man that saved him so many years ago. "He told me his name was John Winchester, after the rifle, and he was a Hunter."

He nodded at the gasps and the low comments from the audience. "Yep. A real Hunter from before. He said he had two sons, the eldest, about my age, was called Dean. He reminded me of my pa and I knew his sons were lucky to have such a father. Just before we got to my grandparents house he knelt down in front of me and looked into my eyes. Handed me a gun ... and he told me … well, I'll never forget it, and I'll never forget the way he looked - so sad, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He said, "Remember this boy. Something's coming. Not now, not for a few years, but it's coming, and then ... well, then we'll need people who know how to fight, how to hunt. So you train, you ask your grandpa to teach you how to use a gun and a knife. You learn your history and your old wife's tales and always make sure you carry salt and iron with you. You hear me?" He ruffled my hair, told me to be a good boy, listen to my grandparents and I'd be just fine. So ..." he looked around again.

"You kids, you train up well and maybe one day things will go back to how they were, before the demons came."

"Did you ever see him again?" asked one of the adults.

"No. But years later, when I became a Hunter I heard talk of the Winchester boys; Sam and Dean. They were well known in the hunting community. I wondered whether they were his boys, whether he was proud of what they'd become or whether he wished he'd put them in the ground himself." He stopped the expression on his face sorrowful. He said nothing more that night and slowly they began to stand and move away from him, leaving him to his memories, to a time before when a man named John Winchester saved his life.

 

**BORN ON THE BAYOU BY CCR**

Now, when I was just a little boy,  
Standin to my daddys knee,  
My poppa said, son, dont let the man get you  
Do what he done to me.  
cause he'll get you,  
cause he'll get you now, now.  
And I can remember the fourth of July,  
Runnin through the backwood, bare.  
And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin,  
Chasin down a hoodoo there.  
Chasin down a hoodoo there.  
Chorus:  
Born on the bayou;  
Born on the bayou;  
Born on the bayou.  
Wish I was back on the bayou.  
Rollin with some Cajun queen.  
Wishin I were a fast freight train,  
Just a chooglin on down to New Orleans.  
Chorus  
Do it, do it, do it, do it. oh, lord.  
Oh get back boy.  
I can remember the fourth of July,  
Runnin through the backwood bare.  
And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin,  
Chasin down a hoodoo there.  
Chasin down a hoodoo there.  
Chorus  
All right! do, do, do, do.  
Mmmmmmm, oh.

 

*****************************


End file.
